Like This
by sharingank
Summary: Deidara would be so easy to break. TobiDei. Contains spoilers if you haven't kept up in the manga.


If anyone ever tells you that you don't learn anything in grad school, that is a **boldfaced** **lie**, my friends. You learn lots of things. Like how to procrastinate on studying for exams. :D Anydoodly, Mitukashi over on DeviantArt draws the best evil!!Tobi like..._ever_, and her newest (titled Oh Senpai...) heavily inspired this...thing. SO. Enjoy. I hope.

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**Like This**

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"I…hate it…when you're like this, un." 

"Oh?" Tobi leaned in and cupped Deidara's cheek. "But I love it when you're like this." He moved his mouth down Deidara's throat to his chest, where the thick, black stitches were. "I love that face you make." He slid his tongue over the stitches, across the slit between them. "I want to immortalize it."

Deidara's back arched off the bed. Tobi put his palm against him and pressed him into the mattress.

"Though you wouldn't approve, would you?"

Hands clenched, straining at the chains that bind him, eyes screwed shut, messy golden hair spread out on the pillow, Deidara said nothing for a while, merely breathed (deep and rasping and so, so beautiful).

"Art is—"

"Fleeting."

Deidara looked at him, expression resigned. Betrayed, almost.

_Sharingan, sharingan. Always comes to that. You really are delicate, Deidara. It'd be so easy to break you. _

"Yeah." Deidara turned his head to the side, a curtain of hair covering one blue, blue eye. "Just do whatever you're gonna do. Hurry up. You know I can't stand these fucking chains."

Tobi smiled.

"I don't think it's the chains."

He sucked on the middle finger of his right hand. Normally, he'd have Deidara do this, but he'd rather not demoralize his partner completely. The mood was already set, and now wasn't the time for playfulness.

Finger thoroughly moistened, he pushed it inside of him, in and out and in and out. Deidara made more of those delightful sounds that Tobi never tired of, sounds that didn't quite match up with his surprisingly masculine voice (a charming counterbalance to his feminine features).

He'd seen many generations ebb and flow throughout his long life, generations spawning an endless variety of body types and distinctions, however Tobi had never seen anyone like Deidara before. Oh, the blonde hair and blue eyes, yes, and even the mouths in his hands (byproducts of a unique bloodline near extinction, honed and perfected in what will be their final manifestation). But these blue eyes were exotic, wide yet slanted, darkly lined yet bright. This shade of blonde was as electrifying and conspicuous as the man himself.

Brash, excitable, respectful of his seniors (most of them, at least), passionate to a fault…

It was the passion that drew Pein's attention when he singled him out for recruitment, a passion that, drawn directly from his beloved art, infused everything he did.

"This one is special. He'll do very well, given he survives."

Yes. While not suicidal, Deidara had little regard for the continuation of his life if he could die at the moment his art was truly complete, when his strength, his _youth_, reached its pinnacle.

Today, tomorrow, a week, a year…when didn't matter. What mattered is that it would happen, sooner or later.

Art is fleeting.

'It isn't the chains," he repeated, and removed the finger. He grabbed Deidara's hips, gripping tight enough to bruise, nails breaking skin. "It's what they symbolize."

He thrust forcefully, driving their bodies together again and again and again. Deidara's head snapped back. His bound hands fisted in the sheets. His open mouth panted.

"Hate you like this, hate you, hate you, hate you…"

Tobi lowered himself over him, slick chest to slick chest, hands on either side of Deidara's head. He kissed his mouth, licked and nipped his neck, returned to his mouth.

"We'll destroy it," he whispered. "That authority you hate so much. We'll destroy it."

Supporting his weight on his arm, Tobi snaked a hand between them to stroke Deidara's erection.

"You're part of it," Deidara hissed. "You, Itachi, Akatsuki—" Whatever else he would've said was lost beneath a strangled moan.

"A necessary part."

Their eyes met.

"What…?"

Tobi kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss. "Without us, your potential would be wasted." He picked up the speed, thrusting harder, faster, as his hand pumped. The room was full of the sound of clinking chains, the slap of skin against skin, the creaking mattress, harsh moans.

Lips near Deidara's ear, Tobi murmured, "Come."

Deidara came looking at him, seeing him for what he was, for what he'd always been and always would be.

_Remember these things I show you, Deidara. Remember them. Remember what I've given you, what I've made possible for you._

One last thrust, and Tobi came inside of him.

"You really are a bastard, un."

"Yes," Tobi agreed. "I am. It's—"

"Necessary. Doesn't change the fact that you're a bastard, bastard."

Tobi laughed.

"I suppose not."

_You have no idea, Deidara. You don't understand the irony. But I won't show you that._

"Doesn't mean I believe you."

"That's your choice."

"Che." Deidara jiggled the chains. "Take these things off me, wouldja?"

"No."

He scowled.

"_No_?"

Grinning, Tobi trailed a fingertip down Deidara's abdomen.

"I haven't finished with you yet, _senpai_."


End file.
